Bad fics, redone
by Flyingninjafish
Summary: Bad fanfics rewritten, with authors permission when possible. The types of fic will vary, though all of them share a common theme of potentially good idea, ruined because of poor writing.
1. HP King of the Amazons Ch1

**AN: Lets all face it, one of the worst things in this community is finding stories with at least somewhat good ideas, that we only read because of that, and not because it's actually a decent story. That is what this fic is about. Finding terrible stories that have some potential and fixing them. I aim to include as much of the source material in terms of plot points and character traits, but improve upon them in a way that makes you want to read the story. All credit of the original ideas will be given in each chapter.**

 **This first story is a Harry Potter one. It is based off of a fic called "Harry Potter: King of the Amazons" by TheSilverboar. It is pretty bad, owed to the fact that it was written as an experiment by its author to try and find a style of writing that fit him best, though it's major flaws really shine later on. The whole thing comes across as author wish fulfilment, though I have been informed this was not intentional, where Harry has off screen sex with lots of Bikini clad women and generally acts like an asshole to everyone. This is my attempt at a first chapter. I have messaged the original author and he has given his consent.**

 **Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling**

HP: King of the Amazons

 _Parseltongue_

Chapter 1: Arrival

Vernon Dursley was not a happy customer. In fact he was quite livid. He and his family had been invited on a sea cruise in the Mediterranean on his boss's private mini cruise ship, along with a number of other high ranking employees, as a result of achieving an increadbly large contract in America, which would bring in record profits for that year. The owner of Grunnings had been so ecstatic, that he had offered everyone involved on a 2 week cruise in celebration.

Now normally this would do wonders for Vernon, but there was a rather large, in his mind, problem. The boy had to come too. All his usual minders were sick or away, and the image he and his family had built about the boy meant no one wanted to look after him for the fortnight they would be away. Therefore, they had been forced to drag the boy along with them. His mere presence always managed to make Vernon mad, knowing he was always so close to his freakishness and forced to play the part of a loving uncle to his coworkers. It was enough to drive a man to drink.

So that's what Vernon did. Drink. A lot. Though never while in the presence of others. That would ruin all the hard work he had put into preserving his facade. So for each of the 5 nights they had been sailing, he had snuck out of bed (which due to his weight and girth was no easy feat), and raided the mini bar for all he could. This is where we find him, face flushed red, his movements sluggish and his drunken ramblings slurred. Most of what he said was unintelligible, but in Vernon knew just what he was mumbling about.

The boy. It was his fault he couldn't enjoy this holiday. He had worked hard to earn it, and he couldn't have any fun, because the boy was always there. He'd tried to fix the boy, by God he had tried. The chore's didn't help, though it never stopped him piling on more. Holding back food didn't either, though he always thought it better to eat as much as possible rather than let the boy have it. He'd even tried smacking the boy a little when Petunia wasn't watching. A smack here, or a light punch there would do the boy some good. At least he had thought. It hadn't. Nothing he did would ever fix that boy and get rid of his freakishness.

It was this last thought that stayed in Vernon's head. Get rid of the freakishness. That was what he wanted. For it, and the boy, to be gone. In a drunken daze, he stumbled towards where the boy was laid, fast asleep on the couch. He hadn't been given a bed, there were only 2 and Vernon certainly wasn't going to force Dudley to sleep on the sofa or with the freak. Sliding his hands under the boy, he lifted him up, and left the room.

Making his way through the largely deserted ship, he eventually reached the cargo bay. There were a number of steel boxes filled with what Vernon assumed were foods, drinks, and other things, along with a few wooden crates. Being mindful of the child in his grip, and the consequences of him waking up, Vernon searched around for an empty crate. Finding one that was thankfully close to an exiting stairwell, and small enough to fit through it, he wobbled over as fast as he could, and laid the slumbering child inside. Fastening the wooden lid on, he used all his limited might to pick the crate up, and toss it overboard. With a whispered "Good riddance." Vernon wiped his hands clean of the boy for good, before staggering back to his room.

The impact of hitting the water would jar the boy from his sleep. For an hour he screamed and yelled and begged, but no one came to save him. Giving in to hopelessness, he went limp, and allowed the ocean waves to lull him into a restless sleep. For 2 days he drifted, until eventually the boy felt the crate he was in settle on solid ground. For the first time since he woke up in his wooden prison, the boy felt hopefull. Beginning his banging and screaming anew, he silently prayed that he would be saved.

* * *

A few hundred meteres away, a young women was standing with 2 others, her hand wrapped around a spear she had planted in the ground to steady herself as she caught her breath. She and the others were patrolling the beaches, in search of any useful items that may have washed up over the past few days. It was a duty all Amazons had to perform, though it was often designated to trainees or those who had recently completed their training. Hylla, a lithe blonde 16 year old, was the designated leader for this patrol. She was not overly muscled, but her arms and legs were firm and strong, and her stomach was toned. Her friends and fellow Amazons had similar bodies, having gone through the same training as she had. Her hair was currently tied into a ponytail that reached her mid back, and her eyes shone a forest green. She was wearing rather sparse clothing, the day's heat to high to wear much other than fur bikini's that their people often wore. Civilian Amazons typically wore clothes that had been washed ashore rather than the fur and hide clothing that the warriors did, though almost everyone had a set of fur clothes.

Stretching out a few kinks a couple of meters away was another young women named Reyna. Hylla had always considered her to be her polar opposite. Her hair was short black and wild, compared to Hylla's carefully cared for blond. Her eyes were and icy blue, sharp and filled with suspicion, whereas Hylla's were mischievous and welcoming. The only common ground between them were their bodies which shared the muscles of young Amazons, as well as similar busts. Despite this though, Hylla and Reyna did get along, even though they had a lot of petty arguments.

Turning around, Hylla faced the last member of their group, a women several years their senior, and a fully trained Amazon, Otrera. The differences between them and her were easily apparent. Her chocolate brown hair reached her lower back, and had no distinction styling, save for a number of golden beads that held some strands together. Her body was much more weathered compared to the teenager's as well, a six pack clearly visible. Her hips flared outwards, giving her a shapely appearance, and her bust and rear were significantly larger than the two girls. She was a perfect Amazonian specimen. The kind of women they all looked to become. Though they knew it would not come easy. For Otrera to achieve her own physical state, it had taken 15 years of her life, from training to that day.

The group had stopped for a quick rest, having spent a number of hours in search. The two trainees were feeling the strain, though Otrera looked barely winded. She stood stock still, her eyes focused as she gazed over the horizon. Her eyes settled on what looked to be a wooden box, half buried in the sand a few hundred meters away. "Girls!" She called, getting their attention "I think I see something, a few hundred meters down the beach, let's check it out."

Grumbling over their break being shattered, the group picked themselves up and began striding towards where Otrera had claimed she saw something. As they got closer, their ears began to pick up the sounds of banging, and the occasional cry. Rushing forwards the group soon arrived at the crate that Otrera had spotted. Exchanging a look with her fellow Amazons, Hylla stepped forwards and slid the tip of her spear into a gap between the lid and the crate, and began forcing it off. After a bit of struggling and help from Reyna, the kid popped off, revealing the box's contents to the group.

It was a boy, shaking like a leaf as he stared up at them through squinted eyes. His hair was similar to Reyna's, a wild mop of jet black, while his body was tiny and frail. He was wearing a faded grey t-shirt that hung of his small frame, along with some trousers that was only held up by a bartered belt. Gasping at the child's condition, Othrera leaned in and gently pulled the child out, holding him close to her as she rocked him gently in an attempt to clam him down.

"Otrera, what, um, what do we do?" Hylla asked unsure, Reyna silently wondering the same as she shuffled in silence. The pair had never expected to find a boy in their search, and they were completely ill-equipped to deal with it. Otrera gave a cursory look over the child, noting the paleness of his skin and his astonishing lightness. Who knows how long he had been in that crate, it was a mirical he was even alive.

Settling on a course of action, the elder Amazon turned to the pair and said "We're taking him back, he'a in poor health and he needs help. We will probably send him back on the next passing ship." Hylla looked satisfied with the answer, though Reyna seemed rather unhappy. Their first patrol stopped before they could find anything inportant because of a little kid. It was enough to plant a seed of dislike towards the boy in her mind.

After quickly introducing themselves to the boy, who said his name was Harry, the patrol group and their newest charge set off. Due to his weakness and shorter legs, Harry could not hope to keep up, so Otrera elected to carry him, as he would slow her down the least. Almost an hour into their journey, the hairs on the back of Otrera's neck stood up, and she began to get the feeling she was being watched. Holding the child closer to her, she signaled the others to be on their guard. Reaching a clearing, the group abruptly stopped as the sound of rustling leaves and breaking foliage drew their attention. Then the hissing started. It was loud and seemed to echo in the Amazons' ears as they stood back to back, trying to find it's source.

"Python..." Otrera whispered in fear, as her fellow women gaped in shock. The great snake of the island was a legend amongst the Amazonians. It was said to be as long as a tree is tall, its venom could kill in a matter of minutes, and its hide was strong enough that any weapon they used did little to damage the serpent. Even the handful of firearms they had collected over the years were ineffective, only scratching the beasts scales. There was a popular myth that claimed that it was the descendant of a dragon, and was unkillable by any Amazon. One of the first rules any Amazon was taught was that if you came across the Python: run. Never engage. Any who did often ended up dead.

Knowing that the snake had found them, Otrera desperately thought up a plan. Turning to face her fellow warriors, she had barely managed out a single word before the beast struck, shooting out of the bush Otrera had been facing, fangs bared and dripping with caustic venom. Quickly pushing Harry out of her arms and yelling at him to run, Otrera was defenceless as the snake wrapped its body around the 3. Agonisingly, it began to tighten and constrict around them. As much as they tried to escape the snake would not budge, and they could feel themselves begin to choke, and their ribs begin to crack.

Harry had not moved from were he was, too shocked to move a muscle, as he watched in silence as the group who had rescued them were crushed by the mighty serpent. It was a shout of pain from Reyna that shocked him into action. " _Leave them alone!_ ", so desperate, angry and scared he was, that he didn't realise that his words came out, not in English, but as a series of hisses and spits.

The Python's head shot round to face him, teeth no longer barred as they had been before, and his grip on the group slackened. " _You speak_?" It replied, disbelief heavy in its voice. Harry was in a similar state of shock. He didn't think the snake would actually speak back. Come to think of it, he hadn't really known what he had expected the snake to do. He'd just panicked and his mouth started moving on it's own.

Registering what the snake had asked, Harry stuttered out " _Y-y-yes?_ ". The snake's grip loosened even further as it moved its face closer to the child. His body shaking once more in fear, Harry was paralysed as the serpent's eyes bored into his skull, its tongue poking out to taste the air.

For a whole minute the snake simply looked at him, never blinking and never mooving. The 3 women had managed to wiggle some of their upper bodies free, as they tried desperately to save both themselves and the child. " _Amazing_ ," the snake seemed to gasp " _Never before have I met a human who could speak the language of the serpent_ s." Pausing for a moment as if considering something, the snake continued " _I am Pythos, how may I aid you, speaker?_ "

" _Wh-what do you mean? What are talking about?_ "

" _Ah, you do not know? All serpents are bound to follow those who speak our language. This linguistic gift is only given to those who the gods seem worthy._ "

Harry didn't quite believe it. A giant snake wanted to serve him purely because he spoke to it. It was just a little bonkers if you asked him, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least not yet, there would be time for questioning Pythos later. " _Could you, let those 3 go please, they saved me and you're kind of crushing them_." Harry asked, remaining respectfull as he still didn't quite believe the snake's promise of obedience.

When the Amazons were released they rushed to Harry's side, checking him over for any injuries. After assuring them that he was just a little shaken up, Otrera and Hylla questioned the boy, while Reyna collected their dropped weapons and aimed them at the snake, that was now curled up and watching them. One explanation about Pythos' absurd reasoning for letting them go, and said snake chiming in to tell them he was coming so he could stay with "the speaker", the nervous group set off to the Amazon village, once more with an extra member.

Another hour of walking, or in Pythos' case slithering, the unusual group passed through the gateway to the Amazon main village. The houses were basic wooden cabins, built with function over style, though each seemed to have had additions made to it. A painted picture here, and an animal horn or bone there. Each was just a little different from the last. The pathway was hardened mud, heavily compacted, but still soft enough for Harry's shoes to sink in a tiny fraction. As the group continued their way through the village, led by Otrera, they garnered a lot of attention. They, being Harry and Pythos, who had allowed Harry to ride on him, allowing them to keep pace with the women. Anyone who saw them gaped, stared, pointed, or screamed as the legendary Pythos slithered past, a small boy on his back.

Otrera lead her party up to the top of a hill that overlooked the entire village. On top of said hill was a house that was far larger and more decedent than the others. The wood was smooth, and painted a rich dark red, and intricate drawings and symbols were artistically placed across the walls. Two women clad in armour made of leather and animal hide guarded the entrance. When they had seen the group approached they had each drawn a machete that had been hanging by their sides. One more hurried explanation and the group was given an audience with the queen of the Amazons.

To say Harry was nervous would be an understatement. He was quite frankly terrified. Not as scared as he had been when Pythos first arrived, but scared nonetheless. The room they was lead to was a spacious dining hall, at the back of which stood a throne like chair. Five minutes after they was brought inside, one of the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen entered from a door to the side. Her skin was a tanned brown, and her powerful visage was framed by long golden hair. Mint green eyes gazed upon them, flickering from one member of the party to another, taking in even the minutest of details. Unlike the warriors that stood before her, she wore a simple white dress with no visible patterns, along with a few golden bracelets and anklets. As she walked they clittered and tingled against each other. She did not stop infront of the group, instead she turned and walked towards the throne. Sitting herself down, her voice carried through the room as she asked "Otrera, who have you brought before me, and why are they in the company of the great serpent?" Her voice held an icy coldness, as she sought to contain the rage and fear that came with being so close to the creature that had killed so many of her people.

Kneeling before the women Otrera explained. "Queen Bellona, I was overseeing a routine patrol being conducted by these 2, Hylla and Reyna, when we came across a crate that had washed up on the beach. When we opened it we found the boy inside. We were on our way back when we were attacked. I was so sure were were going to die, but then the boy started to, talk to it." More than a few eyebrows were raised at her decleration. "It claims to be called Pythos, and seems to obey the boys orders. Though it's reasons are suspicious to say the least."

The hall remained silent for a few minutes, while Queen Bellona rested her head on her hand, her brow creased in thought. "What is your name, child?" Her sudden question brought everyone out of their distracted states.

Stepping off of Pythos' back, Harry copied Otrera's kneeling position, thinking it was the right way to greet royalty. "Harry Potter, m'am."

Standing abruptly, Bellona strode up to him, and tilted his head up to face her. Her free hand traced the side of his face, the gentle touch raising goosebumps on his skin. The hand trailed past his face and lightly ran over the rest of his frame, almost as if she was searching for something. Confusion was written across his face, but Harry did little to stop her, secretly enjoying the woman's soft caress. Pulling away, the Queen gestured a guard over. "Take the boy to the healer, check for any serious injuries, and make sure he eats plenty. I could count his ribs for God's sake."

As the group was carted off to the healers, Pythos picking Harry up and plopping him upon his back once more, the Queen sent another guard to retrieve the Oracle. 2 minutes later, a hidden panel next to the throne popped forwards, and a through the hole left in the wall, a women popped out. Amongst her people, she was a visual anomaly. Her hair was a pure white, bedraggled mess, while her eyes were a mesmerising pink, framed by a pair of wire glasses. Instead of the tanned, muscular body that the typical Amazon had, the newcomer's was incredibly pale much like her hair, and seemed to have a tad more pudge to it than others. She was clad in civilian clothing, form hugging jeans and a tank top just a size too small. All in all, she had the appearance of one that did not get outside a great deal.

"Ah, Propheta, glad you came so quickly." Bellona said as she embraces her friend and trusted advisor.

"Well your guard seemed like she was in a hurry so I took the back door so to speak." Propheta replied, jerking a thumb in the direction of the hole she had entered in, which appeared to have a tunnel of some sorts connecting to it.

"Yes well, I need your help. Let's discuss this somewhere a bit more private." After placing the panel back onto the wall, the pair departed to the queens bedchambers. Giving the village oracle a run down on what she knew, Bellona asked for any advice she could give her.

"Well, if, Pythos you said his name was, does indeed follow the boys commands, having that boy on 'our side' would be our top priority. But the question is how does he do it?" Propheta began mumbling to herself as idea after idea ran through her head.

"I doubt it's something that can be taught easily, the snake seemed to make such a big deal about it, so having him teach us is out of the question. Aside from that, I have no clue, unless he was just born capable of speaking to snakes..." Bellona drifted off. There wasn't many reasonable explanations, so for all they knew it was a genetic trait. It didn't sound possible, language being passed down through DNA, but then again, speaking to snakes shouldn't have been posssible either. A ridiculous skill may just have a ridiculous origin. Shaking her head clear of those thoughts, Bellona continued "Finding out how he can command it can come later, right now we need to figure out how to make him stay here willingly."

"Your right, if we try to keep him a prisoner he might just sick Pythos on us. No way we'd win. So the trick is having him want to be here." Here, Prohpeta took on a teasing smirk "Ya know he is a male, you could probably just seduce him into staying." Her snickers made it clear she was joking, but Bellona turned the idea over in her mind. Turning to face her mirror, she ran her hands over her body, admiring the curves her dress hung to. Her hips were wide and her rear was firm, while her breasts were magnificently large and maintained a good deal of bounce. With a body like hers, she could string any straight man along the path she wanted. The only problem with the plan, and it was a big problem, was that her target was a child. Who from the looks of it hadn't even started puberty.

After a few moments of consideration, Bellona asked "Propheta, you wouldn't happen to have any herbs or plants in your stores that act as aphrodisiacs do you?"

"I think I do, why? Wait! You aren't actually going to have sex with him are you? He's just a kid!"

"Exactly why I need those herbs. Hear me out. If we spike his food and get him used to being, physically intimate, so to speak, when he is old enough we can really, persuade him to stay. Until then we treat the kid like family, with no sex, I promise." She hurriedly added at the end in response to Prohpeta's slightly disgusted glare. "Look, I'm only doing this to get Pythos. I could barely care less about the kid. And if making him stay means drugging and having sex with him, I'll do it. Plus when he does grow up I'll have a willing little sex slave."

For a few moments there was utter silence as Propheta tried to comprehend her queen's plan. She planned to drug him with aphrodisiacs, have him as physically close to her as much as possible, and treat him like an Amazon, all in the hope that the boy would make Pythos act in the favour of their people, and act like a sex slave. Prophets was beginning to wonder if her friend had some mental issues. She was going to attempt to convince her that it was a terrible plan, but one glance at the steely, determined look in Bellona's eyes told her it was pointless. The Queen got like this sometimes, made a rash descision and would follow it regardless of any advice telling her to stop. The results were mixed. Propheta could only hope this whole thing didn't blow up in their faces. "I'm just gonna go down on record as saying I think this plan is stupid."

"Great!" Bellona cheerfully replied, completely ignoring her friends defeated tone "You go get the herbs ready, I'm gonna make sure this place is ready for my guest tonight."

Propheta's face went red with rage as she yelled "You said you wasn't gonna sleep with him!"

A sultry smirk plastered across her face, Bellona replied "I said I wasn't gonna have sex with him. I never said anything sleeping with him."

Propheta's cry of indignation was heard through most of the village.

 **AN: So there we have it, the first chapter of Harry Potter King of the Amazons, redone. Those of you who have read the original can probably tell the differences already but for those who can't here is a quick rundown:**

 **1\. Vernon didn't simply go on a cruise to get rid of Harry, here he has actually motivation. I also toned down the abuse talked about in the original fic to something closer to canon, rather than Vernon viciously assaulting him anytime he felt like it.**

 **2\. The Amazons actually have descriptions that aren't just hair and eye colours. I don't feel great about the descriptions I did but the characters do seem a lot more detailed than before. Propheta has been changed to a full on albino, rather than simply having white hair.**

 **3\. There is now a legit reason why the Amazons were defeated by Pythos, and haven't been able to kill him before now.**

 **4\. People are doubting Pythos' allegiance to Harry instead of immediately accepting it.**

 **5\. The village actually has things in it beyond simply being there. The 'palace' is more than a big hut like in the original.**

 **6\. Harry is not crowned King as a result of 'taming the great serpent', instead the Queen decides to seduce him in order to control Pythos with him as a proxy. There will be no underage sex nor a magic ritual that makes him able to reproduce, just herbal remedies that make him horny so the Queen's job is easier.**

 **And those are the major ones. Leave a review telling me how it compared to the original, and how it did as an independent story.**


	2. Blackbriar Harry Ch1

**AN: This next fic is a crossover that seems like it should be a match made in heaven, yet so few people have written about decently; a Harry Potter/Skyrim crossover. With the heavy focus on the magical and mythical in both, you would expect more of such stories. However you would be mistaken. One of the few stories there are for this crossover style is a story called Harry Blackbriar, by Chooch77. This author has written many stories, though I have not read a great deal of them. This one in particular did get a rewrite, but that was only 2 chapters long, similar to the original, and suffered just as many plot holes, ridiculous character depictions and a myriad of other problems.**

 **The basic plot is that Harry ends up in Riften, joins the thieves guild and is also adopted by Maven Blackbriar. He also apparently gets a harem as well as his own faction along the way, before returning to England somehow. Not a lot of detail could be garnered regarding the future events from the 2 chapters we got so I had to do a bit of guess-temating. This is my version of how this story should have played out.**

Chapter 1: On his way to Riften town

 _Nowadays, very little is known about Horcruxes, save for their purpose and the methods used to create them. The exact origins are unknown, though the earliest texts describe early Horcruxes being made of blue luminescent crystals. These gems were some of the only materials capable of holding a soul at the time, until later methods were developed that allowed a witch or wizard to store his/her soul in any physical container. However, the creation of Horcruxes raised a question. What happened to the soul, or part of the soul, that was stored when the container was destroyed? Many people came up with theories, however no proof has been found or is ever likely to be found that would answer this question._

 _-An exert from (insert dark magic book name here)_

Harry Potter had never had a particularly good life, to say the least. His parents had been killed by a sociopathic mass murderer, not that he knew that, his godfather had been wrongfully imprisoned, not that he knew this either, and he had been forced to live out the last 8 years with the Dursleys who abused and harassed him whenever the opportunity arose, which he knew a lot about.

They would feed him only the bare minimum and call him greedy, force every chore in the house onto his tired shoulders and declare him lazy, and would dote on their equally cruel son Dudley, while telling everyone who would listen that he was in essence the anti-Christ. Needless to say, Harry Potter was not happy with his life. However, on a cold wet night in early November, Harry's life would change for the better.

Vernon Dursley had come back home from work with his face already a blazing red. He was grumbling madly to himself. Harry didn't catch most of it though he did hear enough to guess that someone at work had made him angry, though the how was left unanswered. It didn't matter to Harry though, all he knew was that his uncle was angry, and if he wasn't extremely careful, he might wind up receiving another beating. But, despite trying as hard as he could, Harry did screw up. When serving dinner he had slipped and sent the food he had been carrying all over Vernon, who had not changed out of his expensive work suit.

The group had been silent for but a few moments, the only sound in the kitchen being that of the food dripping off of Vernon's clothes. The quiet was broken with a cry of rage from Vernon, and a terrified scream of Harry's. The next couple of minutes were a blur of pain and yelling for Harry, as his enraged uncle rained blow upon blow down on him, while he curled up into a ball on the floor to attempt to protect himself. Petunia and Dudley watched the seven with a mix of glee and disgust. They were happy that the freak was getting punished for ruining their husband's/father's suit, and disgusted at Harry for doing it in the first place.

As Vernon continued to punch and kick him, Harry quickly began to fear for his life. His uncle had never gotten so angry as to attack him so viciously before tonight. 'Please,' Harry mentally begged, 'please, just stop!'

Magic is a curious thing. Through force of will, a user of magic can perform all manner of seemingly impossible tasks. Magic powered by powerful emotions, can often create effects that are even more otherwordly. As Harry Potter pleaded for the pain to stop, his magic reacted. It sought a way to help the boy escape. It found its route in the form of a tendril of magic connected to the boys soul, linking it and another world. Latching onto this link, thin as it was, Harry's magic dragged him through. To the outside world, he vanished with a crackle not unlike electricity. But to Harry, he felt like he was being ripped apart, smushed back together and then squeezed through a rubbed tube, before falling onto a cold stone ground.

* * *

 _Two weeks later_

Harry decided that the universe hated him. Why? Because despite his miraculous teleportation, he was in just as bad a situation as he was with the Dursleys. Well, not quite as bad, but living in Riften's orphanage wasn't exactly the most pleasant of experiences. There was at least a dozen kids there, all forced to sleep in half broken beds with the thinnest of mattresses and sheets that were as filled with holes as Swiss cheese. They were all one size as well, so the older kids always had to scrunch up in order to fit their bodies onto the bed.

When Harry first arrived in this new world, Nirn, he had heard some older kid called it, he had been extatic. A new world, and a new life. Or so he thought. It was only a few hours after he arrived that he was found by the city guards and hauled off to Honorhall orphanage, after a bit of questioning about his parents. In his old world, Harry had never believed in all of the horror stories about the orphanages his uncle told him, but now he was starting to change his mind.

The main caretaker of the orphanage was a wrinkled, old bat of a woman by the name of Gregor the kind. The name could not have been farther from the truth. When she was around company or especially the guards, she acted like she was just an average older lady, completely harmless and lovable. But when they left and she was alone with the children, her warm smiles turned to cold sneers, and her sweet voice transformed into harsh shouts. There wasn't a single child in Honorhall that didn't hate her guts.

Harry spent as much time as he could away from the orphanage. He had a good deal of talent when it came to hiding from people, being forced to try and make it like you didn't exist in a cramped house meant he was quite good. He was overlooked by Grelod, the other kids, and most of the adults in Riften. Most.

Whenever he wandered around the streets of the town, he stuck to the shadows as much as he could, but could never shake the feeling that he was being watched.

Harry was in fact being watched. Brynjolf spent a lot of time in the Riften Market, the center of the city. This gave him a good point at which to pick out targets for the Thieves Guild. Anyone who spent a good deal of coin was a potential target, either for what they had bought, or if it seemed that they had a good amount of coin on them. Constantly watching people gave Brynjolf a very good eye for details, things others would miss. So for him it was quite easy to pick out the small disheveled child that could sneak past most of Riften's ignorant citizens.

He was obviously an orphan from Honorhall, any runaways were quickly found by guards, or left the city entirely. He had a rat's nest of black hair, and green eyes that shone like a jeweller's emerald. His shirts and pants were drab and looked a little baggy, hand-me-downs most likely. Further details were harder to pick out, the shadows obscuring him from even Brynjolf's vision. Most of the time Brynjolf was content to simply watch the boy, finding him amusing in a way. Today though, he decided to do something a little different: he talked with the boy.

Brynjolf had planned the chat to simply be him letting the boy knew he was watching him, but the conversation went quite a bit further than that. Upon learning that he had been discovered, Harry had asked how Brynjolf had known he was there, which lead to him giving the kid a few tips on sneaking around. Brynjolf had to admit, he liked the kid. He was a curious lad, very interested in anything he said, and Brynjolf enjoyed having someone to give a few sneaking tips too. Almost everyone down in the Flaggon knew how to stay undetected, so Brynjolf had run out of 'students' to teach. It was something he enjoyed doing, helping new thieves that came to join the guild. Every new thief meant more coin for the guild.

It was a few days later when Brynjolf next saw the kid. He had kept an eye out for him, but he seemed to be taking his tips to heart, and from his position in the market, he had a bit of trouble spotting him. When he did see the lad, he was a little surprised by what he saw. The kid had been just walking down the street towards the market. When he passed a fruit and veg stand, one of his small nimble hands snatched up an apple and slid it into the oversized sleeves. The kid never even broke in his stride. Brynjolf was a little impressed. The owner of the stand, a dunmer called Marise, was pretty good at catching petty thieves, but this kid just stole an apple right under her nose and she hadn't even blinked.

Over the next couple of days, Brynjolf spotted the young man stealing all sorts of things, food and dropped coins being the most common, with a few more uncommon goodies thrown in the mix, the most notable being a small steel knife that the blacksmith had made out of a bit of spare steel, as well as a plain silver ring from Madesi's stand. The boy clearly was a thief, and his scores were getting bigger and bigger. But without some proper training it was only a matter of time before he was caught. And so it was that Brynjolf did something that, while a stupid idea at the time, would pay off beautifully. He took the boy, who he finally learned was called Harry, and brought him to the guild.

No-one believed him when he said he was taking in the kid as a student, regardless of what he told them about Harry's skills. He was just a kid, there was no way he was that good was the general thought. Deciding to humour Brynjolf, Mercer claimed that a client wanted them to get Brand-Shei arrested, recommending they plant one of Madesi's rings on his person, making the guards think he was a thief. If Harry could do that, he would be able to join. Brynjolf saw through Mercer right away. This was a test Harry was supposed to fail, and a way to show Brynjolf how stupid his plan was.

Much to the guilds surpise, the man and child managed to pull it off. Not wanting to let Harry fail, the 2 took some time to plan. With the ring most likely kept in a locked strongbox, and Harry not having any idea how to pick a lock, it was a tricky situation. They had a breakthrough when Brynjolf remembered that Madesi always checked the coins in his strongbox at around midday. The next day when the sun was at it's highest point, Brynjolf started a distraction, trying to sell his 'miracle elixir'. All the stand-owners, even Madesi took a look, abandoning what they had been doing.

It was here that Harry darted around the back of Madesi's stand, fell to his knees and started gently poking around coins in the still open strongbox in search of the ring. It didn't take more than a few moments, and he pocketed it along with a handful of coins for himself. Crawling away, Harry popped up when he was sure no-one was looking and made his way over to the crowd. Brynjolf had said Brand-Shei was the the only male dinner in Riften, so he was simple to spot him. He was stood next to a handful of boxes at the very back of the crowd. Bumping into him from behind, Harry acted as if he was trying to get a better view of the stand, dropping the ring into one of Brand-Shei's outer coat pockets. Giving him a childish apology, Harry shuffled through the crowd and gave Brynjolf the signal that he'd finished. Bringining his destruction to a close, to pair vacated the area and waited.

Soon Madesi was calling about a thief and the guards were brought in. A number of pockets were turned out as they searched for the missing ring. When Brand-Shei turned his out and the guards saw the ring, they didn't listen to his claims of innocence. He was dragged off to Riften's jail.

The news soon reached the guild, and the pair returned to a very surprised Mercer. True to his word, Mercer did allow Harry into the guild. The jobs came slow, no-one quite believing the child could pull off what was asked of him. The jobs he did get were always low-risk jobs, not worth a lot of gold, and wouldn't hurt the guild if Harry got caught. At first Harry was quite annoyed at the lack of decent jobs, but soon learned that it was the guild's way of keeping him safe. He was only a kid and while they were a bunch of thieves they weren't so heartless as to be uncaring about a child.

* * *

Years passed and Harry grew both as a person and a thief. At 15, he was an accomplished thief in the guild, rivalling Dirge and Sapphire, but still far from Brynjolf or Mercer's levels. He had started to take harder jobs and was earning more money, enough that he was eventually able to buy himself a home and move out of the orphanage. It was a quant little home on the edge of town the locals called Honeyside. When Harry first bought it, it was covered in cobwebs and filled with random empty barrels. While it only had a bed in it for furnishing, Harry still loved it, if only because he could get away from Grelod.

As a favour to Harry, Brynjolf had used a favour that Maven Black-Briar had owed him, to get Harry declared an adult so he could live on his own. It was a simple enough task for her, the jarl being in her pocket provided such wonderful opportunities. But it did make Maven curious as to why Brynjolf wanted to help a little kid. After telling her that he was his student, Maven was quite shocked, but didn't push the issue. It left the 2 even, and that was enough to satisfy Maven.

Over time Harry earned enough coin to better furnish the place. He had spent a good deal on his house, buying up chairs, tables, and shelves, in order to make the place feel cosier. He practically emptied his store of gold when he purchased an Arcane Enchanter and an Alchemy Lab. Harry's skill with enchanting and alchemy came about as a result of there simply being no one else in the guild capable of enchanting or brewing potions. They were not skills thieves often thought of as useful, so none of them had learned. But Harry saw the upsides that the others hadn't.

If they brewed their own potions, there was less likely to be poisoned by brewers who might have hated thieves. And being able to nick a guard with a poisoned blade or an enchanted dagger that paralysed them to make escape easier made the idea much more pleasing. The straw that broke the horse's back however was when Harry realised how much cheaper it would be, when compared to buying his and the guilds potions and weapons from other people. Mercer, as well as the others, agreed with Harry. Having been allocated a small amount of the guilds resources to buying potion ingredients, soul gems, and tomes on enchantments, Harry soon started producing various potions and poisons, as well as enchanting the clothes and weapons the various members of the guild. Delvin had 'encouraged' Elgrim to take on Harry as a student in his spare time.

Though his alchemy and enchanting skills were not the only ones that came about due to the guild lacking someone with those particular skills. On a job into the Temple of Kynareth, he had found a number of books detailing various spells to heal injuries and cure minor sicknesses. Snatching them up, he had read them on the carriage ride back to Riften with the rest of the loot he had taken. Most people in the guild knew how to patch up a cut, but there was no dedicated healer amongst them. No-one dared go to a temple for healing for fear of being handed to the guards. So Harry took up learning Restoration magic. It actually ended up saving Vex's life, when on a job together she took an arrow to her side. He had managed to extract the arrow and seal up the wound before she could bleed out. When she awoke in the guild and heard what had happened, she gave Harry a kiss that left him cherry red.

Brynjolf had commented on Harry's aptitude for magic, and suggested that he not squander his talents. Whenever her went on jobs Harry kept an eye out for any books or scrolls that had anything to do with magic. This resulted in him gaining a wide variety of spells and knowledge, but also stopped him from properly specialising in any one area. He never relied entirely on magic though. He was pretty handy with a dagger, but his small build meant he couldn't yet handle a sword. This didn't hinder him too much, as a thief he didn't often get into too many fights. When he did, a combo of an ebony dagger and sparks often caught people off guard long enough for a quick kill.

Killing wasn't something Harry enjoyed doing, but in a choice between him and someone else, he wasn't afraid to kill.

* * *

On the 14th of the Last Seed, Mercer received a job that could net the guild a serious amount of coin. A rich horse breeder wished for the guild to steal a horse she believed could be used to breed some of the finest horses in Skyrim. She was willing to pay handsomely upon delivery. The only catch? The horse belonged to a high ranking imperial, who was currently out patrolling the border. With most of the guild out on jobs of their own, Mercer assigned the job to Harry, knowing that the boy had enough skill and cunning to get it done.

Harry had intended to sneak into their camp in the dead of night and steal the horse while the man and his group slept, however that plan was ruined when Harry discovered that the group was made up of 30 imperial soldiers armed to the teeth. Harry was good, but there was no way he could sneak past that many people and get away with the horse.

However Harry didn't have to worry about making up a new plan, as the next morning, the company ambushed a group of travellers that were being escorted across the border by Stormcloak soldiers. It was chaos, with swords clashing and shields bashing skulls in, blood was flying. The imperial officer fell of of his horse midway through the fight, and Harry took the opportunity to dash towards it and grab it while everyone was distracted.

But before he could house himself into the saddle, he heard a cry of "Stop thief!". Instinctively turning towards the source, his face was met with the pummel of a sword hilt. Staggering back dazed, he was unable to block the Imperial's fist from smashing into his face, and he blacked out.

 **AN: So there we have it, the 1st chapter of Blackbriar Harry complete. Now the observant among you may have noticed a lack of Maven Blackbriar in this story and in regards to Harry's life. This is because I couldn't really fit her in much at this point and it doesn't seem like she would have much interest in Harry just yet. The emancipation I added mainly so that Harry could buy Honeyside and actually keep it, but I may also use it to justify Skyrim girls getting into Harry's pants. Just a thought.**

 **Like the original these are Harry's current stats if her were a Skyrim game character:**

 **Sneak-65**

 **Pickpocket-70**

 **Lockpicking-60**

 **Light armour-50**

 **Speech-40**

 **Alchemy-60**

 **Restoration-60**

 **Enchanting-55**

 **Destruction-45**

 **Illusion-50**

 **Alteration/Conjuration-40**

 **One handed(dagger only)-55**

 **Everything else-15**


	3. Blackbriar Harry Ch2

**AN: Hey guys long time since I updated this or any of my stories to be honest, real sorry about that. Collage has been a colossal bitch on my spare time what with coursework and stuff. But anyways here is the second chapter to my rewriting of Harry Blackbriar, feel free to leave a review about your thoughts of how I did and the changes I made to the original story, and just where any potential plot threads may lie. Not really spoiler alert but there is a possible plot thread to be explored later that I added during the execution/escape sequence. With that out of the way, enjoy.**

"Uuuuggghhhee." Harry groaned as he pried his aching eyes open, his head pounding as he dragged himself back to consciousness. He felt a lump on the back of his head and moved to rub it in hopes of easing some of the pain, but found his hands bound by coarse rope. This realisation woke him up as his eyes shot open in alarm. He tried to break free but it was for nought, only making the rope dig into and scrape against his wrists.

"You awake over there?" A strong, nordish voice asked him, drawing attention away from his attempts to break free. The speaker was an older Nord Male, with dirty blonde, shoulder length hair who sat opposite him. He was rather muscular, as most Nords were, and his mouth was surrounded by a goatee. He seemed unbothered by the cold, as Harry took notice that they were in a rather snowy forest in the back of a cart being pulled by a horse ridden by an imperial soldier.

"I am now." Harry replied curtly, seeing no reason to antagonise him despite the mild pain he was experiencing. He took a look around, noting they were sharing the wagon with two more people; another blonde haired Nord, who looked a bit more clean in terms of appearance but had a gag stopping him from talking, and a slender black haired young man who looked rather angry at the whole situation. "What happened?" Harry questioned the man who had spoken earlier.

"You walked right into that Imperial ambush same as us didn't you?" He asked back, "Trying to cross the border I assume?"

"Um, sure." Harry agreed, thinking it was better to be thought of as an innocent refugee than a horse thief.

"Bad luck it all is." The nord lamented, "Some people just want a better life elsewhere, away from their old homes. No empire should have the right to arrest you for that. Course not all of us here are innocent." Here his gaze turned to the younger man beside him.

He seemed to take offence to that, declaring "I'm no horse thief, they've got it all wrong." Harry felt himself stiffen just a little as he realised that somehow the soldiers had gotten him mixed up with the other man. They both shared a similar build as well as the same colour hair, and in all the excitement of a battle, it wasn't unreasonable for people to get mixed up when they took prisoners. He sent a silent thank you to the gods for this small act. If he was careful and got lucky with whatever guards that would be guarding him, he might be able to play innocent long enough to escape. He could only hope.

The younger man kept talking, accusing the Stormcloaks, which the man who greeted Harry was apparently a part of, of ruining Skyrim, that the Empire never paid much attention to them until they showed up. He lamented that he could have escaped to Hammerfell if they hadn't attracted an ambush near where he was crossing the border, and that he and Harry didn't belong with them. Harry was torn between not wanting to gain either of the other two men's ire by distancing himself from them, and thanking the man for at least trying to defend him.

"None of that matters thief; we're all joint in binds now." The first man may have continued but he was quickly quieted by the driver of the wagon.

This gave Harry the chance to ask, "What are your names anyhow?", having grown sick of referring to them from their looks alone.

"Ralof." Replied the blonde nord, and after a few seconds of hesitation, the younger man introduced himself as Lokir.

"So who's this guy?" Lokir asked, gesturing to the gagged Nord across from him. Harry had to admit he too was curious. He looked far too well looked after to be a typical Stormcloak, not to mention him being the only one who was gagged.

Ralof's voice was filled with a mixture of pride and indignation as he answered. "Watch your tongue; you're talking to the true high king: Ulfric Stormcloak."

As the previously unknown Nord's identity was revealed, Harry actually found himself shaking in fear. Not out of fear of the man before him, for he was as bound and helpless as Harry was at the moment not to mention unlikely to hold any kind of grudge against him, but because of what that meant for their current situation. It was common knowledge that the Empire hated Ulfric with a burning passion for stirring up the civil war, and now that they had him in their clutches they would take any steps to permanently silence him. Which only meant one place they would all be going.

Lokir seemed to have a reached a similar conclusion, frantically asking aloud where they were taking them. Ralof responded saying he didn't know, but Sovngarde awaited them.

"No, nonononono, this can't be happening!" Lokir started to hyperventilate in fear, and were it not for having years to hone his breathing techniques, Harry might have done the same. However he couldn't stop the miniscule shaking of his body, or the darting of his eyes as he searched for an escape route.

Perhaps sensing their fears, and wanting to help, Ralof asked, "Hey, what villages are you from?" When pushed for reasons by Lokir, he continued, "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

"Rorikstead, I'm from Rorikstead." Lokir admitted, visibly relaxing as he distracted himself with thoughts of home and better times.

"Riften." Harry added. He too was thinking back to his friends and surrogate family back at the guild. While a part of him was seemingly accepting of his circumstances, and the very real chance of him dying in the next hour, a far greater part of him was determined to make some kind of escape. Whether it be on foot, or on horse, or with him bound in chains and cuffs he would take anyway out he could find. He'd done time in imperial jails once or twice before, as had all the other members of the guild, and he could either breakout early or wait it out, so long as he got out of here alive.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts of escape, Harry turned to face the road ahead, only to find that during their conversation and his inner monologue, they had apparently reached their destination. As they approached the gates of what could best be described as a small village, one of the guardsmen stationed at the path over the gate called out "General Tullius sir! The headsman is waiting!"

As a voice presumably belonging to General Tullius replied, Lokir started muttering under his breath, naming many of the divines and begging them to help them get out of this situation. Harry couldn't blame the man, as he too was would likely be begging aloud for divine aid, were he not already praying for help in his head. With the carriage now trundling along to the village center, Ralof was able to point out General Tullius to the group.

He was an aging Imperial, with a handful of wrinkles, made out of stress or age was not clear, and a head of short grayish white hair. An almost tired scowl was plastered across his face, though their seemed to be an undercurrent of relief. No doubt he was glad that the Empire's greatest pain in the backside was in the grasp and ready for the chopping block. He was clad in stylized imperial light armour, befitting his status as the "military governor" of Skyrim. Next to him were a gathering of high elves clad in black robes and glass armour. The Thalmor, as Ralof pointed out as he accused them of having been behind the ambush. With their well known disdain towards men folk and their many spies around Skyrim, it would not have been considered out of the question for them to have known where Ulfric and his party were headed and to have set up the ambush with the help of the imperials.

Ralof continued, shifting his exposition to the town they were being drove through, "Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl here when I was younger. I wonder if Veelod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in? Heh, when I was a boy, Imperial towers used to make me feel so safe." Ralof's message was hard to figure out for Harry, was he trying to distract them all from their imminent fate, or was he simply talking for it being the last time he would get to talk?

As the carriage began to slow down, Lokir's panic returned full force, "What!? Why are we stopping!?"

"Why else? End of the line." Came Ralof's response, "Well, let's not keep the guardsmen waiting." he said as he and the others stood and made their way off of the carriage, all the while Lokir begged Ralof to tell the guards that he wasn't with them and the rebels. Harry was rather tempted to agree, though he wondered whether getting Ralof's support would make them more or less guilty in the guard's eyes.

The captain, a black woman clad in heavy imperial captain armour barked at them "Step towards the block when we call your name; one at a time!"

With Ralof grumbling about the empire's obsession over lists, Harry was given a few more moments to plan an escape attempt. Running was out of the question, as there were several archers placed around the little square they were all standing in meaning any attempt to run would be met with several arrows to the back. Fighting his way out was equally as foolish unless he managed to encourage the other prisoners to fight with him to make a distraction. That only left one option in his mind; lie his ass off and play with their sympathies.

While Harry's mind was racing at a mile a minute coming up with a suitable lie to get him out of this mess, the guards waited for a few moments to make sure everyone was off of the carriages, barely making a note of the sounds of someone being pushed into Harry's group of prisoners, before one of them began to read out the names of the soon to be deceased in an eerily dull voice. The man clearly did not want to be here to take part in all of this.

First up was Ulfric, who strode proudly towards the block with his head held high. Next came Ralof, who emulated the Jarl's stride, though failed to match his confidence as much. However when Lokir was called up, he let his panic get the better of him as he ran up to the captain and begged her to let him go as he had nothing to do with the rebels. Just as it looked like Lokir was about to attempt to make a run for it, Harry stepped in his face filled with childish worry. Putting every bit of his acting and lying abilities to the test, he cried out "Brother please no! Please, my my brother and I aren't with them!" Harry implored the guard captain, drawing everyone up short.

As Harry had been surrounded by the far larger Nords, it seemed that he had been overlooked by most of the guards and the other prisoners, making them all turn to face him at his loud outburst. Lokir, perhaps catching onto what Harry was attempting to do, wisely stayed quiet and still, hoping that the worry on his face seemed more for his "brother's" safety han his own. The captain scrutinised Harry for a moment, noting the superficial similarities between him and Lokir, before speaking "You there boy, who are you? Is he on list?"

"My name is Ramlof." Harry replied in a suitably frightened, yet strong voice, hoping to come across as simply gravely concerned for Lokir's safety. Truth was, he simply saw an opportunity to get out of this alive, and gain a favour in the process. And a part of him was feeling a little guilty that this man, who was innocent for the most part, was about to be murdered for something he had done. Framing and putting someone in jail for a little while was fine, but murder like this was not so in his view.

A quick check of the list showed he wasn't on it, as the guard holding the list was almost cheerfully glad to hear, meaning he wouldn't be sentencing a young boy to death today. The captain didn't seem to jump at the idea either, as she ordered him to explain just why they had been caught up in the ambush, apparently accepting his ploy for the truth.

"We were out hunting in the forests when we were attacked by a bear. I-it chased out towards the group as they were approaching the border. Next thing we knew all hell broke loose...and...and…" Harry broke into forced sobs as he realized how pathetic his lie was, hoping that his actions would convince them more than his words, "Please, please don't kill us! We're not rebels! We're not rebels!"

After a few moments of rather convincing sobbing on his part, with Lokir pitching in a few tears and cries of "Brother!" to help, the guardsman holding the list turned to face the captain, both looking much more sympathetic towards the pair. Sighing as if what she was about to do was something that would physically pain her to do, the captain ordered, "Hadvar, take them aside." The guardsman holding the list, who was evidently called Hadvar, relaxed at her order, glad that she had seen reason and allowed the pair to live. Hurrying over to the pair, he lead them over to a nearby tower.

Not wanting them to catch onto their ploy now that the pair was seemingly in the clear, Harry latched himself onto Lokir's waist, slowing his sobbing down as he ran out of tears to force out. That was honestly one of his best performances, despite his rather pathetic reason for the two being involved in the ambush. With his young age the guards were already likely to be sympathetic towards him. Throw in a 'brother', a public breakdown, and a few white lies and they were practically begging for him to be let go. As Hadvar left to return to reading out the list of prisoners, Lokir whispered in Harry's ear as they seperated, "Thank you, thank you so, so much! I owe you."

"I'll hold you to that." Harry muttered back, wiping his eyes clear with the sleeves of his prisoner rags. While glad to be safe from losing his head for the foreseeable future, it stung his pride a little at having to breakdown into tears to avoid his fate. A quick look at the gathered prisoners showed a few who were looking at him in mild disdain, as if thinking his actions were dishonourable. Though they could very well have been glaring at Lokir who, thanks to Harry's actions, had escaped death while they were forced to march to theirs. But among the crowd was a number of prisoners that seemed glad that they had escaped, regardless of the method, a few looking over at the pair and winking or smiling or showing their appreciation some other way, making sure none of the guards saw them. Ralof seemed happy at Harry's escape, though not so much at Lokir's, while Ulfric wasn't giving the duo any attention at all, to focused on the upcoming execution to care it would seem.

Lokir chose to go into the tower, taking a seat on one of the chairs inside, while Harry chose to sit at the tower's entrance. They would have to wait for a guard to come and undo their bindings, and they probably would not be doing so until after all of the executions took place, so they had time to kill. Harry wasn't sure what drove him to stay out to watch the executions, all he knew was that something important felt like it was about to happen. His gaze drifted over the amassed prisoners, past Hadvar and the captain, and to where he and his little group had been standing just a few minutes prior in front of the carriage. However instead of it simply being empty space like their should have been, there was a khajiit standing there.

It was a little difficult to make out a gender from the distance, though Harry had good enough vision to spot two rather sizable mounds on the khajiit's chest, as well as the flaring of it's hips, so it seemed that it was a woman. The fur that Harry could spot was a shade of black even darker than his hair, and looked silken and well cared for, far more than he could say for some khajiit he had met from the caravans. With the square being relatively silent, Harry only had to strain his hearing a little to overhear Hadvar, the captain, and the prisoner's conversation, or at least the tail end of it.

"Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list?" Hadvar asked her, perhaps hoping for her to be spared much like Harry and Lokir had.

"Forget the list!" The captain snapped, "We've had enough delays, she goes to the block like everybody else."

"On your orders captain." Hadvar sighed as he promised the woman that her remains would be returned to Elsweyr.

The captain broke away from Hadvar and grabbed the khajiit woman by the arm, tugging her over to the front of the assorted prisoners, much to her clear chagrin. Part of Harry felt like he should have said something to help the woman who clearly did not belong here anymore than he did, but this was overridden by his own self preservation instincts that screamed at him to stay down and stay out of it. He and Lokir were out of this mess, so there was no need to drag them both back into it again. Nonetheless Harry found himself watching her.

While General Tullius started blathering on in what was obviously a well rehearsed speech, the khajiit distracted herself from her likely fate by taking in the sights that surrounded her. Skyrim architecture was far different to that of khajiit housing back in Elsweyr, and the country was so much colder as well. She may have been coated in natural fur, but she was used to the rolling heats of the desert, not the frozen north. Shivering a little, she huddled closer to herself as she continued to look around, soon catching sight of Harry, who looked right back at her.

While the khajiit stared at him as she was curious about the young man who had managed to trick his and another's way out of sure death, Harry stared back at her for a rather different reason entirely. He had met a number of khajiit from the caravans around Skyrim, but none had ever made him feel like this one was. She was extraordinarily beautiful in his teenaged mind, and just looking at her made his belly fill with butterflies. Though this could very well simply have been his body's natural response to a beautiful woman, as he was quite far into the depths of puberty. Regardless of their respective reasons, the pair found themselves staring at one another for a solid 30 seconds, until a loud, echoing roar tore their attention away from each other.

They weren't the only ones to hear it either, as many of the guards and prisoners also turned their attention away from whatever they had previously been focussing on, mostly General Tullius and his speech, to try and figure out where the roar had came from and what might have cause it. Many looked to the mountains and the skies above, Harry and the woman included, as they tried to spot the origin on the roar. None were successful, and many stopped after the General called for the executions to begin, claiming it was "Nothing". Nobody seemed to really believe him, but did not attempt to correct him for fear of aggravating him.

Harry's attention was kept split between the executions, the woman, and the surrounding skies and mountains as time went on. The first to the block was a rather impatient Stormcloak soldier, who, possibly to the chagrin of his fellow soldiers, interrupted the priestess who was giving the group their last rights. He and a few others may well have seen it as honourable and courageous to face his death without feeling the need for the divine blessing, but a number of the other prisoners were not feeling as such if the disgruntled expressions on their faces as they looked at the soldier were anything to go by. With one last taunt from the soldier and the swing and thud of an axe, the soldier's head was lopped clean off at the neck, falling into a basket placed in front of the block.

Harry was more than a little shocked that the next person they called was the khajiit woman he had been staring at earlier, having expected another Stormcloak or even Ulfric, not the unknown cat woman. As the woman took an uneasy step forwards, again came an echoing roar, though this time it was a lot louder, a lot closer. "There it is again." Both Harry and Hadvar muttered to themselves, as they and a few others once more turned to the skies to try and find the source of the noise.

Harry spotted it first, an enormous black figure, racing around the mountain and through the clouds, flying right towards Helgen. There was a third great roar, one that left him stunned with how loud it was, and how it seemed to make his very frame shake with its strength. Hadvar had spotted it soon after him, the one of the town keep's towers having been blocking his view of the approaching threat somewhat, calling out "What in Oblivion is that!?"

"Sentries! What do you see!?" Yelled the Captain, though by then, there was no need to ask for their help, as the creature landed with a booming CRASH onto the tower in front of the prisoners. With it now so close, everyone could see the creature in it's full nightmarish glory. Dark grey, nearing black, scales covered a 20 foot behemoth with 2 immense bat-like wings stretching from it's sides, each equipped with claws that dug deeply into the stonework of the tower as it stared down at the group with blazing red eyes. It's head held a vague resemblance to a crown, the scales transitioning into a pair of thick horns that sprouted from its head, with numerous smaller spikes poking out from down it's back. And though the group could not see it, the dragon sported a thick, brutish tail that was as deadly as the rest of the creature's body.

"DRAGON!" Numerous voices cried out in terror as they recognised the creature of legend that had crashed into the town. Those not rooted to the spot in fear had already began to scatter in hopes of getting away from the beast as it let loose an ear piercing roar that shook the ground around it. Almost hidden beneath its howl was what sounded vaguely like some alien language to the few that could make it out. What seemed like a hollow cylinder of blue magica shot out of the dragon's maw into the sky, quickly transforming the area into a hellish landscape. The clouds looked to be a swirling vortex of fire as meteors fell from the sky to crash into the town, killing indiscriminately.

Harry had been knocked to the floor by the dragon's arrival and subsequent roar, almost too scared to move. In his spot just outside the tower he had a bit more protection from the falling meteors than the exposed soldiers and prisoners, but he was still quite vulnerable. This was quickly proven as the dragon cast it's hateful gaze over the area, settling on the cowering Harry. It reared it's head back and spewed out a blazing trail of fire aimed directly at him. His instincts took over at that point, his body moving to roll away of it's own accord, barely dodging the fire as he fell backwards into the tower. He quickly scuttled backwards, not wanting to risk getting again.

Lokir came quickly to him, his eyes holding far more fear than when he was called up earlier as he fretted over Harry, desperately checking to see if he was ok. "I'm fine." Harry assured him shakily, making a check of his own for any burns and fortunately not finding any. Hyperventilating from his near death experience, Harry shuffled a little further into the tower and away from the doorway, only to be surprised to see Ulfric rush in, his binds in tatters and pulling the gag from his mouth. He was swiftly joined by a few other prisoners, along with Ralof and the khajiit from before.

"Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked, desperate for the Stormcloaks' leader's insight.

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric replied in a grave tone, clearly worried about what this meant.

Nobody knew what to say as they all tried to process what had just happened. A roar brought them out of their reverie as they were still not yet safe from the creature's attack. "We have to get out of here." The khajiit said, her voice possessing the same natural purring growl that all khajiit possessed but tinged with audible worry.

"Running would be a prudent thing to do in this situation." Harry agreed, not wanting to get between that fire breathing being of death and whatever it may have wanted at the moment.

"Up through the tower!" Ralof yelled, figuring they might be able to jump from it to another building and avoid climbing the rubble that had blocked the street. With no better ideas for what to do, Ralof, Harry and the khajiit began to run up the tower steps, leaving Lokir with Ulfric and the other prisoners for now. Ascending to the second floor, the group was forced to witness a stormcloak soldier, one of the few in the group of prisoners who had managed to keep his armour even during his capture, be crushed by a ton of stone and mortar as the dragon rammed it's head against the side of the tower, sending parts of the wall flying into the man and pinning him beneath it. There was a general exclamation of "OH SHIT!" from the group before the dragon's mouth opened and let loose another blast of fire into the tower.

Luckily the group had shuffled back down the stair somewhat to avoid the flames, but they nonetheless felt the heat of the attack. After a few seconds of breathing fire, the dragon abandoned the tower, once more taking off into the sky. With the debris from the wall blocking the entrance to the top of the tower, the group was stuck. Until Ralof pointed out to the wrecked inn just opposite of the hole in the tower. "Jump through the roof and keep going." Ralof instructed, "Go! We'll follow when we can."

Wanting nothing more than to just get out of there, Harry took the leap first, crashing down onto the floor of the inn's second floor with a rough thump, rolling a little to ease the landing a little. The khajiit's landing was a lot more well done, perhaps as a result of her feline instincts. The floor creaked a little under the pair's combined weight, the fire and damage already done to it weakening its integrity quite a bit. Spotting a hole in the floor a little ways in front of them, the khajiit took the initiative, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him towards it.

Dropping down, the duo ran out of the demolished inn and back out into the open street. A small group of Imperial soldiers were taking cover behind a wrecked building, one of them calling out to a young boy, barely 9 or 10 years old at most who stood in the middle of the street, too scared to move before the soldier's yelling broke through to him. And not a moment too soon as the dragon touched down again a few moment's later and roasted the area where he had been standing.

Spotting Hadvar among the group, Harry hurried over to him, the khajiit on his tail. The soldier turned towards them, his face breaking out into a relieved smile, happy that the pair had not been crushed or burned to death. "You still alive you two? Good. Stay with me me if want to stay that way." he exclaimed.

"Works for me." Harry muttered, figuring that the man had done nothing to suggest he wasn't earnestly trying to help the pair.

"Take care of the boy!" Hadvar barked to the soldier who had called out to the kid, who was busy trying his best to calm the child down and stop him from running head on into danger in his panic, "I've got to find General Tullius and help with the defense."

"Not alot swords can do against that thing I'll bet." The khajiit muttered under her breath, believing the beast too great to take down with mere iron and steel, and considering the fact that swords were effectively useless against anything with wings. Still she kept her opinion mostly to herself, not wanting to destroy the soldier's confidence in themselves with how shaky it probably was at the moment what with the whole town being destroyed around them and they being powerless to stop it.

Not hearing the khajiit's comment over the sounds of the attacking dragon and the roaring flames, Hadvar started to lead the small group over in the direction where several fireball spells were being thrown, the only route being through the flaming wreckage of a home. The group suffered a collective heart attack as the dragon slammed down onto the wall just to the side of them, the hulking lizard's body suspended above them as it breathed it's flames towards what sounded like a group of soldiers, flame grilling them alive before taking off again.

After making their way through the blazing ruins of a small cottage, the group met up with General Tullius' group, consisting of a few spell casters, amongst which was the priestess from the execution, a couple of archers, and the Thalmor group. Barely a few seconds after arriving to help, General Tullius yelled at the group to head for the keep, as they had decided to do the smart thing and bravely run away from the seemingly unkillable, giant, fire breathing creature of death that had descended upon them.

"No arguments here" Harry replied over the sounds of battle, as he and the khajiit took after Hadvar, who was leading the way towards the keep. Perhaps realising that she was not as effective in combat as the other more hardened spell casters of the group, the priestess decided to join their little party, running after them towards the safety of the keep. Slowing down just enough so that the woman could keep up with them, Hadvar almost led them to the side door of the large stone structure, before Ralof came running from the other direction, his clothes singed in places and a handful of cuts and decorating his body. The two soldiers traded insults for a few moments before each demanded that the group follow them.

However before the group had to make a decision, they were interrupted by a loud crash and a roar as the dragon slammed into the ground close by, blocking the main door to the keep that Ralof had been intending to head for. For a moment it seemed to merely stare at them, as if finding their "oh crap" faces amusing to it. It was this moment of hesitation that let them get away as Hadvar threw open the door to the side entrance and screamed "GET INSIDE!". Not needing to be told twice, the group threw themselves through the entrance and scrambled inside. Hadvar followed suit, quickly joined by Ralof and the pair of them slammed the door shut just as a stream of fire seared past. They kept the door blocked until they heard the dragon cry out again and take to the skies, slumping down to the floor in relief. They were safe. For now.


End file.
